


Maybe Bring Me Love (or Something Else)

by shrimpheavenwow



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Fluff, I just wanted it to be cute, It's literally just fluff lmao, M/M, Sick Fic, They're cute boys and they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrimpheavenwow/pseuds/shrimpheavenwow
Summary: Race gets sick and, as his boyfriend, Spot is legally obligated to take care of him.





	Maybe Bring Me Love (or Something Else)

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Putting parentheses in the title again? It's more likely than you think. I wrote this for @ i-hate-theheadline on tumblr bc they're sick and I wanted to write something cute anyway. Race talks a lot for someone who's lost his voice? Based on the inspiring true story where I lost my voice last year and wouldn't shut the fuck up which made it worse lol. Unbeta'd. Kudos and comments are some good shit 
> 
> Hmu on tumblr @ [broadwait](https://broadwait.tumblr.com/). Title from Tin Man by The Avett Brothers.

Sunlight was streaming in through the blinds, somehow managing to fall directly onto Spot’s eyes. He blinked awake, rubbed his eyes and rolled over. Race was curled up into a little ball beside him, wrapped in several blankets. Spot smiled over at him fondly; Race got exceptionally cold at night and often ended up stealing most of the blankets they had on their bed. Spot sighed. It was Saturday morning but they still had things they’d planned on doing, like cleaning and shopping and going out for lunch with Elmer. Spot put his hand on Race’s shoulder and started to shake him.

“Hey, Race. Come on, we have to get up. We have stuff to do today.”

Race rolled over and Spot could immediately see that something was wrong. Race’s face looked drained of most of its color, except for the flush of red that was creeping up his neck.

“What?” Race rasped. His voice was absolutely shot, practically nonexistent. He coughed and pressed both his hands over his eyes. “Spot, I think I’m dying,” he whined.

“You sound like you smoke 30 packs a day.”

Race shook his head. “Only cigars man, cigarettes nasty.” His voice cracked something awful and Spot had to force down the laugh that was building in his throat. 

Spot held a hand to Race's head. He tried to sit up but Spot pushed him back down.

“Spot, come on, I have to get up,” he whispered halfheartedly. Spot shook his head

“You’re burning up kid, I’m going to make sure you stay in this bed all day.” Race’s face perked up. “And not like that ya dumb idiot, you need to  _ rest _ .” Race’s face fell again into a pout but he seemed to accept Spot’s order because he rolled over and buried himself again in the blankets.

Spot got up and got a thermometer and some tylenol, plus some ginger ale that they kept in the fridge just in case either of them were sick. When he came back, Race was already mostly back to sleep, but Spot would be damned if he didn’t get the guy some medicine before he was all the way out. 

He shook Race awake again, much to his displeasure.

“Sorry man, just gotta give you some medicine and take your temperature.”

“Fuck off,” Race said, his voice muffled from the pillows his face was buried in.

“Hey, you’ll only feel worse if you don’t.”

Race sighed and lifted his head, nodding in sleepy acceptance. He took his temperature and the pills before handing the thermometer to Spot, settling back into his little blanket nest. 

Spot left the room, going to the kitchen and starting to make himself some breakfast. He made himself some eggs and considered making some for Race too, but he’d probably be out for a bit and Spot didn’t know how much he’d be up to eating. If Race felt like he could hold food down, Spot would make him some toast or soup or something.

It was two more hours before Race woke up. Spot had occupied himself with starting to work on the cleaning they were supposed to do, even though he knew full well that he wouldn’t be able to finish it on his own, not today. He knew Race was awake almost immediately because he could hear him calling from the bedroom. Even though he’d very much lost his voice, Race still found a way to warble out Spot’s name. 

Spot may love his boyfriend but he was also a man who enjoyed making fun of said boyfriend. Immensely. Before he went into the room, he stopped just beyond the doorway where Race couldn’t see him. He pulled out his phone and recorded a video of Race yelling his name, voice cracks, high pitched squeaks and all. He stifled a laugh and sent the video to the group chat.

Race was sitting up when Spot came in, propped up by pillows. His phone was sitting next to him, buzzing but being ignored. Race’s eyes were trained on him.

“Spot, I’m hungry.”

“Do you want soup or something? I think we have chicken noodle somewhere, but if you want another kind I can run out and get you some.” Race shook his head.

“I want ice cream.” 

Spot gave him a look. “Race, you’re not going to get better eating ice cream.”

“I don’t care about getting better, I just want to die happy and full of ice cream!” Race gave him a full pout, apparently trying his best to look sad. Spot rolled his eyes. 

“You can have one bowl but then you’re going to eat something good for you, alright?” Race nodded enthusiastically. Spot ruffled his hair. “And by the way, you sound real cute when your voice is cracking like that. I’m sure the rest of the guys think so too.”

“You aren’t allowed to tell a soul.”

Spot turned and walked out of the room, calling behind him as he did. “Too late.”

As Spot entered the kitchen, he pulled out his phone and checked the group chat, where he was greeted with all kinds of delightful messages about the video he’d sent. Mostly it consisted of things like “rip race” or “maybe now race will actually shut up for once” or Spot’s personal favorite “Hi i’M rAcEtRaCk HiGgiNs aNd My vOicE cRaCkS LiKe A tWeLvE yEaR oLd BoY.”

Spot filled a bowl with cookie dough ice cream and headed back to Race. Race refused to eat basically any other ice cream, except chocolate on rare occasions. He was adamant that most ice cream flavors were just too inferior for his “advanced palette.”

Race was on his phone when he came back in, turning to look Spot dead in the eyes.

“You’re dead to me,” Race rasped in complete deadpan. Spot couldn’t stop himself this time. He burst into laughter. 

When he’d finally managed to calm himself down, he handed the bowl of ice cream over to Race. “Here you go, you dork.”

Race took the bowl with excitement visible on his face. “I’ll accept this as an apology,” he said before taking a spoonful. Spot chuckled and walked across the room to get his laptop before getting back in bed. He sat down next to Race and pulled up Netflix, putting on Parks and Rec.

Race hummed in satisfaction with Spot’s pick and nestled into Spot’s side. Spot laced his fingers with Race’s free hand that wasn’t eating ice cream.

“How the fuck do you have a fever of 101 and your hands are still made of ice.”

“I can’t help it, I was cursed by a witch when I was a young boy. She gave me small, cold, gay hands so that I could find a small, hot, gay boyfriend to keep them warm.”

Spot gave Race little side smile and wrapped his other hand around Race’s. He ran his thumb over his knuckles and brought the hand up to his lips, giving it a kiss before lowering it back down.

They watched Parks and Rec for a while, Race drifting in and out of sleep, his bowl safely moved to the night stand. After a bit, Race reached out and paused the show.

He moved the laptop off to the side and adjusted himself so that he was lying his head on Spot’s chest, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around Spot’s middle. 

“You’re so good to me, you know that?” 

Spot leaned down and placed a little kiss on top of his forehead. “You deserve it.”

Race looked up at him, his eyes full of sincerity. He wasn’t often like this, and when he was, it was only ever in private. 

“You know I love you, right? I know I joke around a lot but I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” His voice was still just barely above a whisper, which only seemed to add more weight to what he was saying, making it that much more genuine.

Spot looked into his eyes and his chest felt warm, like a small fire was burning in his heart and spreading through his veins, finding its way out into the rest of his body. He placed a hand on Race’s head and ran his fingers through his hair before moving his hand down to Race’s cheek.

“I love you more than you could ever know,” Spot said, his hand stroking up and down Race’s jawline. Race made a noise of contentment and moved his head upwards to kiss Spot, slowly, gently. Spot let him at first, then suddenly remembered that Race was Very Sick and broke apart from their kiss. "You’re going to get me sick too, asshole.”

Race’s head fell onto Spot’s chest, his lips playing at a smile and his eyes slipping shut. He nuzzled into the fabric of Spot’s shirt, sighing happily. 

“With how much time you’ve been spending with me, you’re already going to get sick.”

Spot snorted a little laugh. “Yeah well, get well soon. I hate having to actually be responsible for once.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll both get better and we’ll be back to acting like children in no time.”

Spot placed one final kiss to Race’s head before shifting himself so he was more comfortable. As they fell asleep, Spot figured that even though it hadn’t been a very productive day, it had still been a great one. Any day was great when he got to spend it with the man he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIUFVR0WCB4) while writing this if y'all were wondering, 10/10 is cute


End file.
